


Here I Am (Will You Send Me An Angel)

by SwedshNerd46



Series: Here I Am (Will You Send Me An Angel) [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Felicity is an angel, LITERALLY, Religious Themes, in which i an atheist explore theology, obv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 05:10:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SwedshNerd46/pseuds/SwedshNerd46
Summary: Oliver manages to blink a couple of times. Perhaps their earlier collision gave him a concussion, or perhaps he wasn’t fast enough and Tockman actually killed him because there’s no way, no way that there’s an actual living, breathing angel standing next to him in the foundry.No way in hell.Or heaven, for that matter.





	Here I Am (Will You Send Me An Angel)

**Author's Note:**

> My very first work on ao3, yay! I've been writing and reading periodically for most of my life and I'm so stoked my writing bug has finally returned. And to post my first Olicity story, they're soulmates and I will fight you on this. 
> 
> Title is shamelessly stolen from the Scorpions song because I love it.
> 
> I think this is a one shot, but I will explore this universe in a series of non-chronological one shots. Probably.
> 
> Also please let me know what you think.

Tonight’s sky is clear, littered with millions upon millions of stars. Star City is really living up to its name tonight, and if Oliver had more of a romantic inclination he might tip his head backward and revel in the particular incandescence of tonights skyline. Might even take some time to with upon the shooting stars falling across the heavens above.

  
But Oliver is not a romantic, not anymore. Never really was, to be frank, unless pretending romance to get laid counted. Somehow, Oliver didn’t think it did. So he spends no more time on the night’s sky than he spends noting any of his other surroundings - it’s starry, which gives light, there are stars falling, and a slight wind from the east he needs to be aware of when shooting his arrow.

  
”He’s going down Avalon St, heading right towards you, Ollie,” Sara’s voice is crackling with static in his earpiece. Oliver is fully geared up in his hood, his arrow nocked on his bow, the drawstring pulled back taught. His aiming down towards the street, vigilant eyes searching for his target.

  
There’s static in his ear again as the com sparks up and his ears fills with Sara’s voice again. ”He’s right on top of you, Ollie, do you have eyes on the target?”

  
Oliver’s only reply is a low, rumbling growl. He’s just about to tell Sara that she’s wrong, that she’s screwed up the mission and let Tockman get away - again, when there’s a slight shift in the air behind him. Maybe it’s the sound of footsteps, or maybe he picked up on the faint scent of Tockman’s cologne, but his subconscious picks up on something and before his mind has the time to process exactly what Oliver’s instincts has already kicked in and he’s spinning around with his bow at the ready.

  
William Tockman, who put a bullet in Roy Harper only two weeks ago, is behind him and Oliver is staring down the barrel of his gun. There’s a shooting star right behind Tockman’s head, a big ball of glowing white.

  
”Well, well, well,” Tockman starts, waiving his gun haphazardly, ”I guess the Arrow isn’t so good after all, and now you’ll meet the same fate your friend-”

  
Tockman’s eyes widen almost comically. He finds that the fastest way to end a villain’s rambling is with an arrow to the chest. Oliver’s nearly tempted to smile, nearly. He doesn’t even have time to, though. Because Tockman is spluttering blood one second, then as his body begins to sag towards the ground Oliver realises he’s missed an important detail.

  
The shooting star isn’t really a shooting star, and if it is he’s really in trouble. School has never been Oliver’s forte, and he cannot claim to know much about shooting stars, but he’s pretty sure they’re not white and hairy. Blonde haired.

  
William Tockman’s body sags down just low enough that the shooting thing whisps over his hair and instead of colliding with Tockman hits Oliver square in the stomach. The thing has fallen a great length and amassed speed along it’s fall. Oliver feels as though he’s taken a bazooka to the kevlar once the collision happens. The inertia has him tumbling back towards the edge of the roof, somersaulting across the roof with the thing in an impressive act of gymnastics.

  
They come to a halt just before the roof and then everything turns black. Oliver thinks briefly that it’s because he’s slipping into unconsciousness but several moments pass and he can feel the thing pressed against him, can hear the sound of the wind so he knows he has not blacked out. They’ve been covered in something, it’s light and fluffy and dense enough to cause total blackness despite the luminance of the night. Oliver would guess it’s a blanket, but it’s surrounded them in a dome-like fashion, rather than resting upon their person. His next focus is the thing. Whilst the collision earlier had him thinking he’d been shot with a block of marble, now that they’re still it’s soft. Soft and pliant resting upon him and though his ribs feel sore after the crash the warmth of the thing is soothing.

  
”Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow.” The thing is talking. And rising.

  
Light flashes through the dome, like strobe lights in the darkness and Oliver finds himself squinting at the brightness of the night once the dome disintegrates. He rises next to it.  
The thing is a person. It’s the first thing he notices once his eyes readjusts to the light, and it’s difficult not to be flustered at the fact that he’s just been shot with a human canon ball. Five years on Lian Yu and nearly two years saving his city as the Arrow, Oliver has seen it all, done it all. Impossible things, miracles, devastation. More than his fair share, more than he wants to admit.

  
Never before has he been shot by a human canon ball though.

  
The absurdity of it all draws a chuckle from him, which soon turns into a groan as it aggravates his chest.

  
”Oliver, man, are you ok?” Digg asks through the com, and Oliver gives a curt reply about being fine and calling it a night before he disconnects the com. Then he focuses on the human canon ball, because at the same time as Digg’s query the undeniably feminine voice had exclaimed,

  
”You are a terrible human!”

  
The canon ball is a human. A woman - well, girl, really, Oliver corrects in his head. He quickly scans her body for injuries but she seems to have made it out unscathed. Guess I took the brunt of it, Oliver thinks grimly as he assesses his own injuries. Definitely a few bruised ribs, a twisted wrist and he took a bad hit to his knee in the fall.

  
He doesn’t respond the woman -girl - because whilst he hasn’t done anything to offend her personally, Oliver doesn’t think the blood on his hands allows him any room to argue his value as a human.

  
The woman - girl - isn’t paying him any attention either way. She’s busy looking over her shoulder and patting at something on her back murmuring to herself and all Oliver is granted is a view of her blonde hair cascading down her front. It is a nice view, even someone as jaded as Oliver has to admit. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen hair look as soft as this. It’s long, curly and shines like a golden halo atop her head. For a second he imagines running his fingers through it, but then chastises himself. He’s no sap, and now is certainly not the time to start acting like one.

  
”Oh no, it’s broken!” He’s pulled from his reverie by the heartbroken outburst from the girl in front of him. She turns towards him and Oliver notices her big, blue eyes because they’re filled to the brim with unshed tears. Her voice is thick with despair, and for the first time Oliver feels a twang of protectiveness for someone other than his immediate family. It’s easy to develop protectiveness towards the girl, Oliver justifies. Her statue is short, and she’s all innocence with her big blues, shiny long hair and full, pink lips. She’s not big, in any way, but there’s a softness to her body that has Oliver’s hands itching to reach out to her.

  
”What’s broken?” Oliver asks, he doesn’t think she’s broken anything, a few small bumps and bruises at the top but nothing to warrant this level of freak out. Figures, a pretty young thing like her would overreact to this, this is exactly why Oliver doesn’t go for the innocent type. He favours a little more attitude in his women. A little more brunette, as well.

  
She draws her hands across her midriff and shrinks into herself, like she’s holding herself together. She’s blinking quickly, trying to expel the tears from her eyes but one escapes and trickles down her cheek. Oliver feels his stomach churn uncomfortably. He’s never been good with women crying, he wants to reach out and wipe the tears from her face.

  
”My wing! Now I’ll never get back!”

Her what now?

There are several different ways Oliver can respond to that;

Wings? What wings?

Get back where?

I can give you a ride.

You don’t have wings.

But she’s crying in earnest now. Big tears rolling down her cheeks silently as she chokes down her sobs, and Oliver has never been good with women crying. So, instead he asks for her name.

”Felicity,” she answers, smiling through the tears. ”It means happiness.”

”Okay,” Oliver nods, approaching her like a wounded animal: slowly and with his hands raised. ”Okay, Felicity, where do you need to go I’ll take you.”

”You can’t! You’re…” she hiccups and cries harder, Oliver has a difficult time distinguishing the words. ”…You’re human! It’s broken… Can’t get back… and now I’ll have to stay here forever!” she finished in a wail.

”Okay…” Oliver’s mind is reeling. For all the things he can do, survive on a deserted island, join a covert government agency, joint the russian mob, take over as CEO at his parents company and even save Star City as it’s very own vigilante, Oliver has never figured out how to handle women’s tears. Which is odd considering he has a mom and a sister and has caused his fair share of tears in women during his younger years. ”Okay… I’ll just… take you with me.”

Felicity stops sobbing to look up at him with hopeful eyes, still shedding the occasional fat tear. ”Really?”

”Yes,” Oliver says hesitantly. Felicity looks harmless, and he has this… connection with her. He can’t explain it, not even to himself, he only knows it feels like something akin to fate that she fell into him tonight and now he needs to care for her. But he’s thought women… well, perhaps not harmless, but he thought neither Helena nor Isabel posed any real threat towards him so he’s been wrong were women are concerned before. And what will the team say when he brings a stranger into the foundry, without any forewarning as well? He can already hear the chewing he’s going to receive from Digg, but there’s no choice to make. Felicity needs him, so he’ll be there.

Felicity seems to sober up at his reassurance though. The tears stop rolling, and she’s nodding her head in affirmation. Her eyes are still glossy and red rimmed and Oliver never wants to see her like this again.

”I take it back,” she says with a small smile and Oliver would be more smitten with the way it looks on her face if he wasn’t so confused by her words.

”Take what back?”

”You’re not a terrible human. You’re good.”

Oliver smiles. It’s crooked and hidden underneath the hood, but a smile nonetheless. He shakes his head because she has no idea. He really isn’t good.

”Why didn’t you think I was good to begin with?” he asks, watching as Felicity tilts her head, studying him just as he studies her. Except Oliver is certain he doesn’t look nearly as adorable as she does.

”You laughed,” says Felicity, and a small crease forms between her browns when she frowns a little, thinking back. ”I don’t know much about humans except from what I’ve studied, and hearsay of course, but I do know good humans don’t laugh at other humans pain. It’s the first time I’ve felt pain, did you know that? I don’t like it much.”

Oliver is pretty sure his expression is taking a comical turn, but he’s so bamboozled he can’t do much but blink his eyes as he goes over her words over and over in his head. She did look like a sheltered rich girl - no one grown up in poverty had skin so silky smooth or hair so clean and shiny - but to never have felt pain before? And never having met a person before? Did she grow up in a tower? Was she Rapunzel?

He blames baby Thea’s obsession with Disney movies for even being able to draw that parallel. How the knowledge was stuck in his head twenty years later he had no explanation for, but he blames Thea for that as well.

He’s seriously reconsidering his promise to take this mentally deranged person into the foundry, but then again if she’s mentally deranged he can’t exactly leave her alone on a roof top in the middle of the night. She might jump. Or attack someone.

And really, if she’s going to attack someone who better than four highly capable assassins on their home turf?

”…Right,” says Oliver, and starts to usher her towards the exit on the opposite side of the building.

It’s clearly the wrong thing to do because as soon as she’s turned around she’s let out a high-pitched wail that has his heart clenching in pain.

Oliver rushes forward to check whats wrong with her, to protect her from whatever is causing her this bone rattling pain, but when Felicity falls to her knees in front of Tockman and cries, ”He’s dead, he’s dead!” it becomes clear what the issue is. He finds himself juggling being annoyed at her pain over Tockman and guilty that inadvertently he’s the one who caused her pain. Again.

Before Oliver can think of a reply, if there even was one to think of, he’s stunned into silence by Felicity cradling Tockmans head to her chest and chanting a prayer-like hymn.

Her voice certainly is extraordinary. It seems to fill the void of air around them and it sounds like it’s coming from all around them. It’s a thousand voices and only one all at once. Oliver’s filled with a sense of peace and it’s like nothing he’s ever felt before. It’s not a language he’s ever heard.

There’s a reverberance of peace in the air that has even Oliver waiting patiently for Felicity to finish her hymn and set down Tockman’s head again before he speaks.

”He wasn’t a good person,” he says, and feels almost defensive. Oliver has never felt the need to justify his actions to anybody before.

Felicity isn’t reacting, but keeps her head tilted upwards, eyes towards the stars. Oliver’s eyes trails the same path as hers as they follow the path of a shooting star.

It’s a few more moments of Felicity searching the skies before she seems to find what she’s looking for and finally turns to Oliver. She ignores his earlier statement, maybe she didn’t hear him, or maybe it didn’t matter what he’d said. When she speaks her voice is calm, but serene.

”I knew him.”

Oliver startles. Felicity seems so gentle, so good, and he can’t reconcile the idea that someone like her could know someone like Tockman, much less mourn someone like him.

”You knew Tockman?” Oliver asks, trying and failing to keep his incredulity out of his voice.

Felicity tilts her head sideways, in that pondering way of hers. ”You call him Tockman?”

”That’s his name.”

”Here. On earth.” Felicity says whilst nodding her head in understanding. It seems the more she understands, the less Oliver does. Where is she from, Mars? ”I knew him before earth.”  
Oliver blanches. It’s not often anymore that somebody manages to surprise him, yet this little girl seems to surprise him every time she as much as opens her mouth.

”Right,” Oliver says, because there’s nothing else he can say. Then, once he realises how much time has passed and how Dig will be worried about him, he’s been off the comms for quite some time after all, ”we should probably head back to the foundry now.”

He heads towards the exit stairs, not bothering about the sounds of his shoes on the gravel. Stealth is the least of his concerns right now, and it’s unnerving that after just a short first encounter Felicity can rattle him to the core so much so that his instincts completely desintegrate.

Felicity is not following him. That much becomes clear when he opens the door that leads to the staircase and turns to let her in ahead. She’s standing by Tockmans body, regarding Oliver and though he can’t see her look from this far but he can feel the tension in the air. She’s apprehensive, maybe a little scared of him.

”Did you kill him?” Felicity folds her arms across her midriff seemingly trying to shrink into herself. Her voice is low and wobbly. Oliver makes a movement towards her, to go and tell her… Just what exactly was he going to say to her? That he didn’t shoot Tockman with an arrow not even a second before she came crashing into him? That Tockman deserved it? It seemed like neither would offer any comfort to Felicity, who looked devastated that he’d taken Tockman’s life.

”Felicity, I-” Oliver starts, stopping a few paces ahead of her when she flinches. ”He wasn’t a good person.”

Felicity nods thoughtfully, her arms tightening around her.

”He wasn’t entirely pure before earth either,” Felicity begins, and Oliver has stopped trying to make sense of her words, he just listens and nods as though all of this is normal. ”But it’s not for you to decide who lives or dies. You were pure, I can tell. You should cherish that. Don’t let the darkness win.”

Again, Oliver doesn’t know what to say to Felicity. Speaking with such assurance, as if it’s fact that Oliver has any goodness left in him, that he ever was good to begin with, is thoroughly offsetting.

”Do you still want to come with me?” he asks, reaching out a hand in a sort of peace offering. Only now does he realise how much he wants her to come with him. Wants her to trust him.  
Felicity stares at his hand for several moments, it seems an eternity to Oliver, before she takes hesitant steps towards him.

When Felicity places her small hand in Olivers rough, larger one, something falls into place within him. If Oliver was more of a romantic he’d say that Felicity’s touch had anchored his lost soul.  
But Oliver is neither a romantic, nor especially spiritual. He does, however, grace Felicity with the closest to a smile he can manage under the circumstances before he leads her down the stairs, and to his bike.

Felicity regards is Ducati with curiosity, like she’s seeing a bike for the first time.

”Have you been on a bike before?” Oliver asks her.

Shaking her head, Felicity reaches out one of her small hands to caress the bike reverently. ”No,” she breathes, her voice full of awe. ”But I have heard of them. Humans have come a long way from horse drawn carriages.”

Oliver nods placatingly, making a mental note to ask Sara to check if any of the nearby mental institutions are missing a patient. Logically, he’s pretty sure that that will be the case, but there’s something within him that can’t help but think that there’s something else that’s causing this behaviour. Perhaps it’s because Felicity is young, pretty and seems so innocent that she shouldn’t belong in a mental institution.

He shakes the silly thoughts out of his head, Oliver moves to open the seat and remove the spare helmet for Felicity.

”Here,” he hands the helmet to Felicity who stares at it in confusion, the small crease between her brows instantly making a reappearance.

”What’s that?”

”It’s a… helmet?”

”Okay,” Felicity nods in affirmation, the same way she’s done whenever he’s explained something to her. ”What do I do with it?”

”You put it on your head,” Oliver says, still awkwardly holding the helmet in his limp hand. Felicity has yet moved to accept it. ”May I?”

”Okay,”

Felicity’s hair is even smoother than he’d imagined when he strokes it away from her face. Her eyes never leave his, and it feels oddly intimate, Oliver couldn’t tear his eyes off of hers even if he’d wanted to. There’s innocence in her eyes, and the way they sparkle reminds him of sunsets over deep blue ocean. It’s the first time in a long, long time that thoughts of the ocean brings him peace rather than panic. It’s almost relieving when the connection is broken by the helmet covering her face.

Oliver straddles the bike, kicking away the kickstand with his left foot. ”Get behind me.”

Felicity isn’t graceful when she climbs the bike. Her fingers dig into the leather covering his upper arms as she seeks support whilst swinging her right leg over the bike and then plopping down on the seat with such force the bike bounces a little.

A second later they’re off. The wind blows against his face as he winds through the streets of Star City heading down the familiar streets towards the Glades. They’re going way past the speed limit, and when Felicity yelps loudly Oliver thinks he’s scared, but she’s letting out glee-filled shrieks of laughter that has him going faster, taking sharper turns just to hear them again.

To soon they’re at the foundry. Oliver parks behind Verdant and helps Felicity take off the helmet. He forgets to hide the code to the foundry when he punches it into the lock, but Felicity isn’t even looking. Her eyes are still glued to the bike behind then, eyes sparkling with exhilaration.

”That was fantastic,” she says, when Oliver ushers her inside. Her voice is breathy and so, so happy. ”Can we do it again?”

Yes, Oliver wants to tell her. He’d do anything to have her this happy, always. But there’s no time because there’s a commotion in the foundry, loud voices filling the space and the sound of footfalls rapidly approaching. It has Felicity covering behind Oliver. He isn’t consciously placing an hand on her arm in comfort, but it happens nonetheless.

”Where the hell have you been?” Sara growls as she reaches him. Felicity startles behind him, and he hears her low, terrified ”Hell?” underneath Sara’s berating. ”And who the hell is that?”

”Please stop saying that word, I’m really not fond of, you know… hell,” Felicity pipes up behind him, whispering the last word with reverence and fear coating her voice.

Sara studies what little she can see of the girl hiding behind his back, a sort of blanched look on her face. Clearly it’s not only Oliver that Felicity knows how to render speechless.

”Oliver,” Sara says, turning her eyes to him again. ”Who is she?”

”This is Felicity,” says Oliver, gently urging her to stand next to him as he introduces her. ”Felicity, these are my friends; Sara Lance, John Diggle and Roy Harper.” He gestures to each team member as he introduces them.

Felicity cranes her neck to look Oliver in the eyes, her own searching his for some kind of answer.

”Are they good humans, too?” she asks him. Her voice is a murmur, the question clearly meant for his ears only despite the fact that Sara can clearly hear them.

”They won’t hurt you,” Oliver says, in lieu of the truth. They kill people on the regular, granted they’re bad people, but Oliver has a feeling that Felicity doesn’t care who they kill, only that they do.

Digg and Roy walk up to them now, having previously hovered apprehensively in the background.

In a move surprising not only himself, but his teammates, Felicity walks up to Digg and places her hand on his heart. She closes her eyes as she focus on something the others aren’t aware of. Digg seems frozen in place, himself, Roy and Sara too for that matter. All eyes are on Felicity as they wait with bated breath to see what she’s going to do.

It’s a testament to his friends trust in him that Digg let’s Felicity do it instead of disarming her in a headlock. Digg may not always agree with Oliver’s choices, but they have an inherent trust in each other and Digg wouldn’t mistrust someone Oliver has chosen to bring into the foundry. Oliver can only hope he’s not made a mistake with this one.

Felicity opens her eyes after an inappropriate amount of time feeling up Digg’s chest. Her eyes lock onto Digg’s in a gaze so intense Oliver suddenly feels like they’re intruding on a private moment, even though he knows Digg is unhappily in love with his ex-wife.

”I remember you,” Felicity says, at last. Oliver blinks in confusion and sees his confusion mirrored on Digg’s face. Certainly, if he were to look to his other team members he would see the same confusion there.

”I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met before,” Digg says hesitantly, looking to Oliver for guidance. Oliver shrugs in a way that clearly tells Digg to just go with it. They’ve long since mastered the art of communicating without words.

”No, no,” Felicity says, and smiles as though she means the opposite. ”Not on earth. I knew you before this life.”

Roy looks to Oliver, brows drawn far down on his forehead in confusion. Not on earth? Roy mouths to him. Oliver and Roy don’t have the same easy communication Oliver has with Digg, nor does he with Sara.

Oliver shakes his head in reply, mouthing don’t ask in his direction.

”You’re hurting,” Felicity says to Digg. Her hand is still on Digg’s chest and for some reason Oliver wants to remove it, it’s unnerving him.

Digg’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. ”I’m fine, I promise,” he says to placate the girl.

Felicity shakes her head. ”You can’t lie to me, I know you. There’s want, I feel, and sadness. Why are you sad?”

Oliver looks at Sara and nods towards the computers. She follows him there compliantly just as he hear Digg telling Felicity once again that he’s fine.

”Okay, Ollie, what is going on?” Sara asks once they’ve put some distance between themselves and the others. ”Did you pick her up at a mental hospital?”

”No, but I need you to check if any nearby is missing a patient.” He says with finality in his tone, he doesn’t want to say anymore until he knows what they’re dealing with. Sara gives him a look that says they’re not done talking about it yet, but Oliver’s already turned and headed towards Roy.

Roy has his arms crossed over his chest. It’s a defensive move Oliver has been on the receiving end of a lot at the beginning of his partnership with Roy. The one he does when he doesn’t trust someone. The way his eyes are shooting daggers at Felicity right now, she’s clearly the one on the receiving end of his mistrust right now.

”How did you meet Oliver?” Roy asks, his voice harsh.

”She hit me,” Oliver says, before Felicity has the chance to say another mental thing, like she fell out of heaven or something.

”I did not! I don’t hit humans,” Felicity cries indignantly, and Oliver admits to being a little charmed by it all, ”I fell down on him.”

”How did you fall down on him?” Roy asks. Digg is studying them cautiously, like the soldier he is.

”Do you need medical attention?” Sara asks, eyes not leaving the screens as she hacks.

”No, we’re good?” Oliver answers, but is partially drowned out by Felicity’s response.

”My wing broke.”

Exactly what he’d wanted to avoid. Digg sighs and looks at Oliver with disappointment. Oliver can almost follow his train of thought, about how he’s reverted into the old ways of Ollie Queen and is taking advantage of a pretty girl with issues with capital I.

”Your… wing broke?” Roy asks, too astounded to convey any proper animosity in his voice. ”Oliver, she’s mental! You’ve picked up a mental one and brought her into the foundry?”

Felicity seems not to pick up on the aggressive atmosphere in the air, not take up on the clues of a fight halfway on its way to break out. She looks to Sara who’s still typing away on the computers.

”You know medicine? You’re a… ” Felicity says, pausing to search for the right verb. ”Doctor?”

Sara finally stops typing and drags her eyes off the screens. With a shrug, she say, ”We all know some basic army medical treatments, Digg more than anyone.”

Felicity turns to Digg with a bright smile on her face, and Oliver’s heart stutters with shock in his chest and there’s a collective intake of breath by his team members. ”Great! Maybe you can help with this?”

Felicity hasn’t moved, but suddenly the foundry is filled with a pair of ginormous snow white wings and Felicity is glowing warm and bright.

Time has stopped. Oliver is sure of it. Digg is staring at Felicity with his mouth open in shock and Oliver feels frozen in place. There’s not a sound in the foundry, not even breathing, and Oliver can’t even blink. It lasts forever or a second until;

”What the hell?” Roy is awed, and the moment is sufficiently broken. Oliver manages to blink a couple of times. Perhaps their earlier collision gave him a concussion, or perhaps he wasn’t fast enough and Tockman actually killed him because there’s no way, no way that there’s an actual living, breathing angel standing next to him in the foundry.

No way in hell.

  
Or heaven, for that matter.

”I, uh, I guess I could take a look. I don’t have much experience with celestial beings though, so I’m not sure what I can do.”

  
”It’s fine,” Felicity says brightly, smiling as though she didn’t just turn their worlds upside down. ”I have no experience being hurt either but I manage just fine. I have the outmost confidence in you, John Diggle, you were always a pure spirit.”


End file.
